I can barely see over the open car window but I can see enough. My mom and dad talking at the top of the driveway. My two younger brothers sleeping in the back seats next to me. The warm summer breeze gently push the loose tears further down my cheeks. My oldest brother stands in the yard, awkard with youth. Fighting back his own tears.

I hate saying goodbye. My parents movements looks sharper, the polite tones have faded, revealing bitter memories, wounded egos, and improperly healed hearts. She’s going to leave soon. We’re going to leave soon

The lump in my throat starts to form and I can hear myself start to mourn, but I can’t. If I start they’ll start, and I’m a man now… as they say.

Men don’t cry… is what they say.

My dad walks over slowly as if to not scare me away. He leans in the car and says something… I don’t remember… I don’t think it’s important. I’m focused on his face. The tears hiding in his eyes. Just below the surface of his eyelids, his eyes ball red from the pressure of holding them back.

I knod knowingly, and reply “See you next summer.”